Twelve hundred pounds of horse kicked him in the chest, or at least that was the way it felt as only a quarter mile from the town something smashed into his heart with enough force to knock him back. He staggered a few steps forward again before falling and landing upon his knees. A roar tore from his throat leaving it ragged and raw. It felt as if his soul had been ripped from his chest and battered upon the rocks as forcefully as a ship caught within a storm. Just like that ship he felt himself sinking beneath the deep waves of fury and despair that pounded over and through him.

In that second he knew that Genny was gone.

Another bellow tore from him, something within him shattered and fractured apart. He could feel the pieces of himself scattering around him, pieces he would never be able to put back together. Agony swept over him, forcing his head down as he was bent double by the weight of the emotions tearing through him.

His knuckles rested on the ground, he didn't require air to breathe but his shoulders were still heaving as the muscles in his forearms bulged. His teeth ground together, his fangs burst free of his mouth as uncontrollable rage consumed him. Launching himself off the ground he poured on the speed toward the town.

Screams resonated through the air as he leapt up the embankment in one easy bound and landed upon the smoke enshrouded street. The potent scent of blood mixed with the odors of sweat and panic. The woodsy and acrid aroma of the smoke filled the air to create something that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. He didn't care about any of it though; all he craved was death.

Arrows flew through the air but he didn't pay them any attention as he grabbed hold of two humans. He tore the throat out of one and snapped the neck of the other before carelessly dropping their bodies to the ground. The murderous frenzy churning within him made him feel like a demon, rising up from Hell to scrub the earth clean of all the human vermin that resided upon it. For the first time he felt the power of his ancestors throbbing and growing within him. Felt the connection to the original vampire that had walked this earth and he knew it was Lucifer's blood that filled his veins.

He easily slaughtered another four humans before he stopped to feed on the fifth. He tossed away the empty shell that remained. It was the first human he'd ever killed, something he'd sworn he'd never do, and yet he felt nothing for the pathetic creature as he stepped over it. They were like rats though. Everywhere he looked more of them seemed to emerge but he was driven by revenge, consumed with the emptiness inside of him, and fueled by the blood pulsing within his veins.

Moving faster after each kill, he glided seamlessly through the chaos. Rising up like a demon behind the humans he hunted, he pulled them down with him into the smoke. He brought to them, in the last seconds of their lives, the desolation that now encompassed him, before tearing them apart and tossing them aside. The screams of the ones he murdered resonated in his ears. The horror on their faces barely registered as he slaughtered one after another until the thirty or so humans that had survived the original attack on the village were nothing but piles of waste littering the ground.

Standing in the center of the road, he surveyed the carnage. Blood had seeped through his clothes to adhere the linen to his skin. The sticky liquid dripped from the soaked strands of his hair, ran down his chest in rivulets and fell upon the reddened dirt road. Carcasses of vampires and humans littered the ground around him. The flames of the spreading fire crackled and popped, waves of heat licked against his flesh as the blaze consumed the surrounding woods and huts.

The whole town was going to burn and he didn't care. He stepped over a couple of headless humans as he searched the bodies scattered across the ground. Whatever vampires had managed to survive had fled the scene; he doubted any of them would be returning.

None of them mattered though; there was only one that did. His blood in her veins had ceased calling to him, but he caught the scent of sweet asters even over the massacre surrounding him. Pulled irresistibly toward her, he felt nothing as he stepped over Arturo's motionless body and purposely continued forward.

His stride slowed when he spotted her blue tunic in the shadows of a nearby hut. Her left hand was stretched toward the embankment that was only feet away from her. She appeared to be reaching to something far beyond this world and him. The anger and revenge that had fueled him started to dissipate as he approached her. Grief swelled within him, tears burned his eyes as he knelt beside her. Her face was turned toward him; her eyes were open and unseeing. Though there was no life left within her there was a look of peace on her face that rocked him to the very center of his being.

"Genny," he breathed as he pressed tremulous fingers against her porcelain cheek.

Her flesh was already cooling beneath his hand; her beautiful black eyes were becoming opaque and showed no flicker of a reaction to his touch. The times her face had lit up and radiated her love for him flooded his mind as his fingers slid back to touch upon her silken hair. A choked cry escaped him, his shoulders hunched forward and he moved closer to her. His life crumpled around his feet as surely as the huts toppling beneath the fire eating at them. Everything he'd ever dreamed of, or hoped for, was as dead as she was. The temptation to curl up beside her, gather her into his arms and let it all go built within him.

Even as the urge hit him, his gaze landed on the arrows protruding from her body.

The fear and pain she must have experienced in her last minutes resonated within him. Fear and pain he had promised to keep her safe from. Self-hatred swamped him; his entire body began to shake from the waves of emotion crashing against him. He had failed her, he had promised to keep her safe, she had been his wife and he had failed her. He wouldn't do so again, everyone and everything that had been even partially responsible for her death was going to pay and he knew exactly who to start with.

Unable to take the sight of them, he broke the shafts off the arrows and gently rolled her over to pull them out of her beautiful body. He wasn't aware that he was crying until he closed her eyes and his tears fell down to wet her soot and dirt streaked skin. Lifting her within his arms, he clasped her against his chest and bent to press a kiss against her cheek. Her head lolled lifelessly against his chest as he walked across the road to the woods.

He carefully placed her in a secluded place within the forest before returning to the town. There was nothing that he cared about anymore, but if he was going to get his full revenge he couldn't leave things like this. Moving with rapid speed throughout the town, he gathered the remains of the dead and tossed them onto the spreading flames. There could be no proof that a vampire had been the one to kill all the humans. The humans would still be suspicious of what had caused the deaths here, but burned remains offered no evidence and there were no vampires left in this village for the people to come after anymore.

The vampire bodies had to be destroyed too as there were more than a dozen vampires with their fangs extended while in death. There were only ten bodies left when he uncovered Marie amongst the deceased. He barely gave her a second thought before tossing her body onto the growing pyre.

Gathering pieces of flaming wood, he spread the fires even more to encompass the blood soaked ground and woods. Tossing the last piece of wood aside, he returned to Genny and lifted her within his arms again. He didn't look back as he disappeared into the forest with her.

***

Reaching the edge of the cleared property surrounding the manor, he placed Genny's body in the shadows of the trees. His hands lingered upon her but he forced himself to tear them away. Stepping out of the shadows of the trees, he walked briskly across the clearing and around to the back. He didn't hesitate before flinging the back door of the manor open.

"Milord!" A human servant blurted when he entered. The color drained from the man's face as his gaze ran over Atticus's blood soaked form. Every inch of him was covered with blood but instead of being repulsed by it, he found himself relishing in the death that covered him. The madness growing within him hungered for more and more blood; it would never be satisfied. He was well aware that his eyes were burning red also, something that these servants had never seen before, at least not from him. "Mi… milord are you injured?" the man inquired tremulously.

The servant took a step away from him but before he could flee, Atticus grabbed hold of him and twisted his head so hard that his head nearly came off his shoulders. He dropped the man on the floor and turned toward the servant's corridor of the manor. What was going to happen between him and his father was something he intended to be between them only. There was no way he was ever going to allow anyone to interfere in what he planned.

He dispatched of the ten human servants before finding two of his father's Champon guards within the main hall. Neither of them even saw him coming before he ripped the heart out of one and drove his fangs into the neck of the other. He barely tasted the vampire's blood but he felt the strength of it infusing him with the power of the guard's lineage. Releasing the man, he dropped him unceremoniously to the floor and stepped over his unmoving figure.

At the top of the stairs, he encountered another of his father's guardsmen. This one gave him one look and decided he wanted nothing to do with him as he took a couple of steps back and attempted to flee. Atticus caught him before he had made it three steps down the hall and slammed his fist through the man's back. The man thrashed in his grasp; gurgling sounds escaped him as Atticus wrapped his hand around the man's heart and tore it out. He crushed it within his hand before dropping it on the floor.

A small moment of clarity returned to him when he turned his hand over before him. The blood dripped from it and onto the ground with a soft plop. It was almost impossible to believe that the hand was his but as he fisted it before him and lifted his head to focus on the door of his father's solar, he knew that it was his and it had more to do. Walking down the hall, he grabbed hold of the handle and flung the door open.

His father spun from where he stood by the window. "Who dares to enter without…" his voice trailed off, he took an abrupt step back when Atticus stepped into the room. His father gawked at him as his gaze raked over him. "Atticus, what happened to you? What have you done?"

"What have I done?" he grated from between his teeth. "What did you do?"

His father took another step back as Atticus stepped further into the room. "I did what had to be done," he replied.

Atticus hadn't expected him to deny it, but red filled his vision and bloodlust burst hotly through him when his father admitted his role in Genny's death with such a nonchalant tone. Genny was dead because of this man, he might as well be dead too, and his father was staring at him as if it was all perfectly acceptable. The man was so dense, so sure of his power and ability that he had no idea what was standing across from him right now.

But he was about to.

Grabbing hold of one of the chairs, Atticus lifted it above his head and heaved it at the wall when his father made a move to get back toward the table. A cruel smile twisted his lips when his father jumped and took a step away from the debris that shattered outward. Atticus enjoyed the apprehension radiating from him, enjoyed playing with him, and making him squirm. He was going to enjoy it even more when he ripped the man's throat out though.

"Who do you think you are?" his father demanded.

"I'm the one that's going to kill you," Atticus replied flatly.

His father laughed and wiped the bits of debris away from his tunic. "I've more fear of a grasshopper."

His father went to move again but Atticus rested his hands on the sides of the table and shoved forward with all of his might. The three hundred pound wood table slid effortlessly across the room and pinned his father against the wall. "Bloody hell!" his father blurted.

Red eyes met Atticus's but when his father went to push the table away Atticus leapt forward and smashed his hands against the sides to keep it pinned against him. "I don't think a grasshopper can do that," he growled.

His father's nostrils flared, he rested both hands against the table and tried to shove it away. The muscles in Atticus's forearms and biceps bulged against the pressure being placed on them. His teeth clenched together but drawing on the wrath that filled him, the mass quantities of blood he'd consumed tonight, the extra power that Genny's blood had given to him, and his powerful lineage, he was able to keep the table pinned against his father.

"Why?" Atticus demanded. "Why did you do it?"

"Do you honestly think I was going to allow some village whore…" Atticus slid the table back a few inches but before his father could break free, he remorselessly pushed it into his father again. Grim satisfaction filled him as the resounding crack of his father's hip filled the room. His father was able to suppress a cry but he couldn't stop himself from slumping onto the table.

Atticus smiled cruelly at him as he shook his straggling, blood-drenched hair away from his eyes. "I told you before, don't ever talk about her like that!"

"Let me out of here, now."

Atticus released a harsh bark of laughter before leaning over the table toward his father. "It's amusing how you still seem to think you have some control over this situation, over me. Don't you understand yet? I'm not your son. Your son died the second that she did." For the first time apprehension flickered over his father's features. His eyes rapidly ran over him before settling on his left hand. Atticus had taken the ring off and placed it in his pocket when he'd met with his father earlier, but he'd slipped it on before coming back here. "The second that my wife died. You have no say over me, no control. You are not in charge here. Now tell me why? I had agreed to marry Anna…"

"You think Silas was going to allow you to marry his daughter when he found out you were keeping a mistress? No. There was no way I was going to allow this marriage to fall through because of some village…" his words trailed off when Atticus's upper lip curled back and a snarl escaped him. "Some woman."

"How did you do it?"

"Atticus…"

"Tell me!" he roared and placed more pressure against his father's hip.

His father winced, his hand clenched on the table as he strained to stay upright. "I had some of my men go into the human village and rile up the humans. They planted seeds of mistrust about what resided next door."

"And you told them what time to attack?" he demanded.

"I did," his father admitted. "She went to that school almost every day."

"Pathetic." Atticus raked his father with a scathing glance. "You threw away your life to ensure a marriage that you'll never live to see."

His father's eyebrows shot up as he realized that this wasn't merely just an argument or a simple physical altercation. This was a fight to the death and he was already on the losing end of it. His gaze darted frantically toward the doorway. Atticus had never seen his father even a little ruffled; it entertained him to see him so terrified now.

"Guards!" his father shouted.

Atticus laughed at him. "Shout it again," he taunted.

"Guards!" He yelled again, except this time Atticus yelled it loudly and laughingly with him.

"Oh guards!" Atticus called once more in a mocking tone of voice and pushed the table in a little more. His father's face twisted in agony, his hand fell onto the table as his body was forced over it. "I don't think they're coming. As a matter of fact, I know they're not coming. Do you know how I know?" he leaned toward his father and smiled to reveal his fangs. "Because I already killed them all. Just like I'm going to kill you."

Grabbing hold of the end of the table, Atticus flung it smoothly up as if it weighed no more than a log. It flipped end over end before smashing against the far wall. Freed, his father lurched to the side but he didn't come at Atticus like he had before. Instead, he seized upon this opportunity as a pitiful chance at escape. He hobbled toward the open door with his left foot dragging on the ground behind him. Atticus followed behind him, grim satisfaction filling him as he watched the man limp awkwardly down the hallway toward the stairs. His father paused only briefly to gawk at the crushed heart lying beside the guard at the top of the stairs.

"Aren't you stronger than me?" Atticus mocked as his father made it to the stairs. He paused in his pursuit of his father to pick up the body of the guard. He swung it easily over his shoulders as he strolled leisurely down the stairs behind his father. "Isn't that what you always remind me of? I'm not strong enough to take you yet."

His father glanced back at him before continuing in his awkward movements down the stairs. "Why are you running then father?" he inquired. "Why not face me and teach me a lesson?"

His father was only three feet away from the bottom of the steps when Atticus raced past him to the bottom of the stairs. He dropped the body of the guard carelessly onto the other two and leaned his elbow on the rail of the stairs. Folding his fingers before him, he smiled up at the horrified face of his father. "I think I may be old enough to take you now. What do you think father?"

Before his father could even blink he was on top of him, bringing him down beneath him. Perverse glee suffused Atticus as he wrenched his father's neck to the side and sank his fangs into his throat.

***

Atticus stepped back to survey the bodies he'd gathered around the massive table in the main hall. Most of the bodies were now as useless as the table always had been. He didn't know what had possessed him, but he'd felt the inescapable urge to place what remained of the servants and guards there. To make his father see what it was that he had pushed his own son to become before Atticus finished him off. He dropped the body of his father's favorite guard into the chair at the end of the table, across from where his father sat. He pushed the chair in before walking down to where his father sat at the head of the table.

He grabbed one of the candles from the table and lit it off of a torch hanging in the sconces lining the walls. Walking back, he placed the flame before his father and slid into the empty chair to the left of his father. His father's eyes slid to him but Atticus had taken too much of his blood for him to be able to move, rather he'd left just enough so that his father was well aware of his surroundings.

Leaning forward Atticus folded his hands before him as he stared into his father's rolling brown eyes. "If you're thinking I've changed my mind and decided you can live, I'm going to assure you that you're wrong." A muffled sound escaped his father but there wasn't even enough blood left in him for his lips to move. "I simply wanted you to see." Atticus waved a hand around the table as he sat back again. "What it is that I am capable of now, because of you."

His father's eyes flew around the room before focusing on him again. "Atticus." The word was barely discernible.

"I suppose you're going to say it was for my best, that you only did what had to be done and that you were only thinking of me."

"Yes."

"But as you can see now, it wasn't for the greater good, especially not yours. When you set those humans upon that village, you took all of the good that was inside of me and destroyed it. You see father." He leaned so close to him that their noses were nearly touching as he smiled at him again. "When she died she took my soul with her. Now there's nothing left but a hole that will never be filled again. All that's left now is a monster that is going to make everyone pay. I will make humans suffer in ways they never imagined possible, I will make them live like the insects that they are, and I will destroy any vampire that stands in the way of my goal. I will do whatever it takes; squash whoever I must in order to make sure that this world feels my wrath."

His hand fell on top of his father's; he patted it as he gave a little laugh. "And you dear father are the first one that I am going to crush. The ironic thing is that by having the humans riot, you gave me the perfect way to cover up your death. I will be the dutiful grieving son after you are gone, but one day father, I will wrench power away from The Council and unleash hell on them all."

He rose from the table and calmly pushed in his chair before walking behind his father and resting his hands on his shoulders. Bending down, his lips were only inches away from his father's ear when he spoke again. "You were trying to create a man that would snivel at your feet. A man that would be like your guards and obey your every whim, you believed me only a boy that was weaker than you, but I am no boy."

He slapped his hands on his father's shoulders before rising to his full height. He strolled across the room and grabbed one of the torches before walking over to stand by the table again. "I bet you never thought that when you set forth an event meant to punish and dominate me, all you would create was the monster that would destroy you. You see father, her blood in my veins made me stronger." His father's eyes widened at the revelation of an exchange that was completely unheard of in their world. "But when you ripped her away from me, you unleashed something primitive and volatile. My bloodlines are far more superior than you ever knew."

He bent before his father one final time. "I hope you rot in Hell."

"Don't… don't do this," he managed to get out.

"Oh don't beg father, it's so unbecoming. I bet Genny didn't beg for her life." He walked to the door and turned back to survey the table and the bodies posed around it. There was something as sick and twisted about this exhibit as what was inside of him now and he took pleasure in seeing everyone gathered there.

Next time, he vowed. I'll draw it out. Next time they'll all know the despair of being alive but not being able to live. They'll know the torment of being mostly dead while forced to continue on. They'll know what it's like to be me.

He wished he could extend the punishment of his father out for years, but that wasn't going to be possible. With regret, he tossed the torch onto the rushes lining the floor. His father made some kind of panicked noise, his fingers tapped on the table but it was the only movement he could make in his state.

The heat of the flames licked at Atticus, blew the hair back from his face and dried the blood clinging to him as the rushes caught and the fire rapidly began to spread. With the fire came the knowledge that he could simply walk forward, step into the flames now climbing up the walls and leaping toward the table. He could let it all go and be with Genny again. It didn't matter if there was something beyond this life, or not, he would be with her again at least in some way, and death seemed like a much more pleasurable option than this bleak existence without her. He could walk away from the rage and grief consuming him simply by allowing the crackling flames to devour him.

The prospect was so entirely promising that he closed his eyes, held his palms out beside him and tilted his head back as the fire licked up the walls and his father's muffled sounds became more distressed.

If he gave in now though, Genny's death would go unavenged and there were so many more out there that had to pay. Opening his eyes, he resigned himself to the fact that now was not the time for him. He could not be rewarded with death until he completed his mission.

He watched the fire consume his father's body before turning around and walking away. The heat of the blaze beat against his back and blew his hair forward as he emerged from the manor. Without looking back, he walked toward where he had left Genny's body.